


Never gonna sink this ship

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Complete, Cute Derek, Cute Stiles Stilinski, Derek Loves Stiles, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Shipping, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Loves Derek, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:23:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1940961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saw the below on Tumblr, decided to Sterek all of it... 'Cause that's what I do, apparently.</p><p>Imagine your ship:<br/>- making really bad jokes at night and full on snort laughing with each other<br/>- fighting over blankets in bed<br/>- one of them cooking dinner, but it's shit and the other totally taking the piss<br/>- finding the song that's /their song/ but it's a really bad song but they get emotional when it plays<br/>- taking selfies<br/>- borrowing each other's clothes, but they're both different sizes (1 person in baggy t-shirts and the other in really tight trousers that don't really button up)<br/>- going to see a movie but it's shit and they shout at the screen and all the other people in the cinema tell them to fuck off<br/>- saving up and going to a fancy place for dinner but they can't pronounce the names of some of the dishes on the menu and it's cute<br/>- trying to be real grown ups who are responsible, but they still eat kids' cereal and get up early to watch cartoons<br/>- having like week long arguments about really silly shit like who would be a better astronaut, or who would win in a fight between a dragon and a griffin<br/>- generally being weird nerds</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never gonna sink this ship

**Author's Note:**

> The list in the summary was written on Tumblr in text-speech, and it was driving me insane, so I re-wrote it to English.

"Hey, Derek?"

"Mmm? What, Stiles? 'M sleepin'," Derek mumbles, head buried in the pillow.

"What do you call a kangaroo in space?"

Derek opens an eye to glare at Stiles, but he doesn't tell him to shut up, so Stiles figures he can continue.

"An ast-roo-naut," Stiles says, grinning.

Derek groans, but Stiles can see him smiling. Derek turns over, facing towards the wall, and a few seconds later, Stiles can see his shoulders shaking.

"Der? Shit, what's wrong?" _The joke wasn't that bad, surely?_

Derek bursts out laughing, full on snorts and the whole arm over his face thing, and Stiles cackles, tugging on Derek's shoulder until he's lying on his back and Stiles can snuggle up on his chest.

"You're a dork," Derek says when he's got his breath back, shaking his head and wrapping an arm around Stiles.

"You love me," he quips, grinning up at him.

"Yeah, I do. Now go back to sleep," Derek mutters, closing his eyes.

A few minutes later, Stiles mutters 'ast-roo-naut' and sets off Derek's snorting laughter again.

...

Stiles came into the bedroom to find Derek with  _three_ blankets over his body, and raised an eyebrow at him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Getting the blankets before you can," Derek grumbled.

"Before _I can?!_ Need I remind you who woke up as a blanket burrito this morning?" Stiles exclaimed.

"That would be you. You hogged the blankets all night and then complained when I tried to get them back to warm up."

"You shoved me out of the bed after putting your freezing cold wolfy feet on me!"

"You stole all of the blankets, of course I was cold!"

"You're a werewolf! You run at a billion degrees!" Stiles said.

"That's a myth and you know it," Derek growled, holding onto the blankets fiercely.

Stiles rolled his eyes and went to get another blanket from the linen cupboard. He made sure to find the itchiest blanket possible, and while Derek was brushing his teeth, Stiles swapped it out for the bottom blanket, putting the good one on his side of the bed. He curled up in the blanket and turned so he wasn't facing Derek's side, making sure to keep his heartbeat even.

"You're not arguing with me on this?" Derek asked, sounding surprised.

"One of us has to be the mature one in this relationship," Stiles replied, ignoring Derek's scoff of disbelief.

Derek wasn't in the bed long before he started tossing and turning, the blanket irritating his skin. Stiles tried not to grin as he continued to toss and turn, growling and muttering under his breath. Eventually, Derek sat up and turned on the bedside lamp.

"Stiles! Give me back my blanket!" Derek growled.

"You've still got three," Stiles said, holding his blanket close.

Derek snarled and tugged on the blanket fiercely, physically making Stiles roll over to face him.

"Give me my blanket!"

"Aww, does poor widdle wolfie need his blankie?" Stiles taunted, smirking.

" _Yes._ "

"Well, too bad! It's mine now. See, smells all like me," Stiles added, rubbing the blanket up and down his body quickly.

Derek stopped snarling for a moment, looking down at Stiles hungrily. He kissed him, teeth biting at his lip fiercely, and Stiles didn't even get a chance to protest as the blanket was ripped away from him.

The next morning, Stiles woke up in a blanket burrito to Derek's cold feet pressed on the back of his calves.

...

Stiles glowered at Derek, who was trying to keep a straight face, even though they both had a bowl of burnt chicken in front of them. The sauce was too tangy, the pasta over boiled into a soggy mess, and it was truly a disaster from start to finish.

"You can say it, you know."

"Say what?" Derek asked, a grin twitching at his lips.

"That you told me so. You said I left the chicken in for too long, and I didn't listen," Stiles said.

Derek nodded sagely, as if seriously considering Stiles' words. "Well, you're right. I **so** told you so. You put too much lemon juice in the sauce, even though _I told you_ it had enough after the first cup, and don't even get me started on the pasta."

"Don't worry, I won't. Shut up, give me your bowl, and let's order take out instead."

Derek frowned, and tugged Stiles around until he was sitting on his lap. "I'll make sure I don't distract you next time you want to cook," he added, rubbing his nose and lips against Stiles' neck.

"I put the do not disturb sign on the kitchen door for a reason, Derek; you know I get all flustered when you're in there with me. You and an apron should be illegal," Stiles muttered, fingers threading through Derek's hair to keep him pressed against his neck.

"No apron then?" Derek mumbled, tongue flicking against his skin.

"No! You _cannot_ be naked in there; I'll probably set the kitchen on fire," Stiles admitted.

"Not hungry for food anymore," Derek said, grinning as he pulled away from his neck.

"I noticed," Stiles said drily, looking down at the apron Derek was still wearing.

Derek picked Stiles up easily and carried upstairs, their ruined dinner long forgotten.

...

 _And Iiiiiiiiiii will always love youuuuuu_.

"Dude, are you crying?"

"No, shut up."

"It's Celine Dion."

"Shut up."

"Is this why you won't watch _The Titanic_?"

"No." There's a moment of silence. "It's our song."

"Really?" Another pause. "Stilinski chose it?"

"'Course."

"So the reason you're crying?"

"Not crying. Shut up, Lahey."

"Wait... This is the song he sang at your wedding, isn't it? It didn't have the words, and we could all totally tell that he was singing when you were having your first dance as a married couple!"

Derek doesn't reply.

Isaac doesn't seem bothered, and continues talking. "Erica, Boyd and I have a bet going on the song. Damn, I owe Boyd ten bucks."

"I'm going to rip your throat out with my teeth if you don't _shut up_ in the next five seconds, Isaac."

"Nah, you won't do that. Wait 'til Erica hears about this."

Derek wants to bang his head against the steering wheel multiple times.

"Oh, shit, there's our perp. C'mon, Jack. Show me the stars."

"I'm going to kill you. _Slowly_ ," Derek hisses as he gets out of the car to run after his partner.

He's never going to hear the end of this. (The next dinner party at the Boyd's involves Erica blasting Celine Dion and Derek trying to pull Stiles away before he can sing along and he really does cry.)

...

"You're meant to smile, Der-bear! Or pull a funny face. But no duck faces 'cause ... actually, you might still look hot. But I won't, so just no. Now smile!" Stiles instructs firmly, holding his phone up to take a photo of them both.

"I don't like getting my photo taken, Stiles, and especially not blurry ass photos that involve cheap technology and shitty cameras."

"It's a selfie, Derek, it's not meant to look professional. C'mon, just one proper one and I'll stop bugging you! Promise," Stiles adds, brown eyes wide as he licks his lips.

"Fine, but let me hold the camera. You're doing it wrong," Derek growls.

"Oh, _sorryyyy_ , Mr. I Get Paid For My Photos Photographer!"

Derek just raises an eyebrow at Stiles, who flushes brightly and hands the phone over. Derek takes a few minutes to get the lighting right, hold the phone at the right angle, and takes a shot of him and Stiles together.

"Fuck, that is better. Aw, you look like you love me," Stiles says, holding his phone to his chest dramatically.

"Of course I do, you idiot," Derek mutters, rolling his eyes.

Stiles grins broadly, stands up to kiss his cheek, and then heads over to the lounge. "I'm going to spam this on every social networking site I've signed up for. And then sign up for a few more. Reddit does pictures, right?"

Derek just shakes his head and while Stiles is still pleasantly flushed from the admission of love and distracted by his phone, Derek holds up his own phone and shoots a selfie of himself with Stiles in the background. Blurry with cheap technology and a shitty camera, just like it should be.

...

"What are you wearing?" Scott asks Stiles, frowning.

"Pants. And you're lucky I'm wearing those right now. What's wrong?"

"Dude, are you in there with someone?" Scott hisses, eyes wide.

"Yeah, I was until you called and said it was an emergency. Life or death, you said... It is life or death, isn't it?" Stiles adds, tone and face going stern when Scott goes bright red.

"Which tie should I wear to dinner with the Argents tonight?" Scott asks weakly, holding up a red and a blue tie.

"Well, the red matches your face, but you're going to be blue after I kill you!" Stiles growls.

"Everything all right out here, Stiles?" a guy asks, obviously wearing Stiles' pants - and not very well because they barely cover the important parts.

Scott does not look. Definitely does not look.

"Just teaching my best friend the difference between an emergency and something that can wait for, oh, I don't know, the rest of the year?"

Stiles wraps both ties around Scott's neck - _a little too firmly there, Stiles!_ \- and turns so they're both facing the guy.

"What do you think, Derek? Red or blue?"

"Blue; it'll off-set his red face if he chokes on anything. Hurry back, I found more condoms."

Stiles brightens up and practically pushes Scott out of the door. Scott almost gets mooned as Stiles' sweatpants start slipping off his hips, and he shudders, deciding that he's not going anywhere near Stiles' apartment for the rest of the weekend, maybe month.

He decides to go with Derek's choice on the blue tie after all.

...

"Oh, god. Make this stop. I can't take any more," Stiles groans, peeking out between fingers.

Derek snorts, taking a handful of popcorn. "You chose this movie, Stiles, we're watching the whole damn thing... Why is that car exploding? There was nothing near it to make it explode!"

"Shhh!" a younger guy closer to the front of the cinema says, glaring back at them.

Stiles glares right back and starts throwing popcorn in his general direction.

"Wait, when did she have time to change clothes? I thought she was on the run from the bad guys?" Derek points out, a little loudly just to piss off the guy who's pissed off his boyfriend.

"There was a mall on her escape route, obviously," Stiles snickers.

"Oi, fuck off! I came here to watch the movie, not listen to you two!"

"Shame that, we'd be better entertainment. Think people would pay to listen to us, Der?" Stiles asks, a wicked gleam in his eyes as he moves to sit directly on his lap. " _Ooohh, fuck me_ ," he groans, louder even than one of the explosions.

"You little shit; you made him leave the cinema," Derek snorts, chuckling as he presses a kiss to Stiles' neck.

"Probably going to report us. Come on, let's steal his drink and get out of here. It's a piece of shit, and I know how it ends anyway."

"This thing has enough of a plot line to have an ending?" Derek mutters, not complaining as Stiles grabs his hand and pulls him out of the cinema.

They end up with the guy's drink and bag of Red Vines, Stiles saying how it was his own damn fault for leaving them unattended anyway. They pass a pissed off looking man on the way out of the cinema, one of the cinema ushers trailing beside him. Obviously, he didn't get a good look at them because there's not even a hint of recognition on his face.

Once they're outside, Stiles laughs all the way to the Jeep, three Red Vines hanging out of his mouth.

...

Stiles has worked his ass off for the past two months to afford this place, and he feels utterly stupid because he can't read the fucking menu. Actually, he can read three entree meals, a small selection of the drinks, and that's basically it. Derek had casually mentioned a few months ago that he liked this place, and Stiles had looked up reviews on the internet, only to find that the average meal cost more than his hourly wage.

Since then he's pulled double shifts, put his name down for extra hours, and even taken night shifts that he absolutely _hates_ all so he can afford a fancy night out with his boyfriend. Stiles even found his red suit that he looks damn fine in (Derek stared at his ass for five straight minutes the first time he wore it, and Stiles considers it his 'gonna get lucky' suit. Although, right now, not even that's looking likely.)

Derek finally seems to notice that Stiles is flushing as red as his suit and struggling with reading the menu, and reaches across the table to grab his hand.

"You okay, Stiles?"

He winces and shakes his head. "I can't read this thing. I'm sorry; I wanted to take you out somewhere nice, and I'm ruining it."

"No, you're not. This is a total surprise, Stiles, and since you've worked so hard to get us here, why don't you let me order for us? You trust me to order for you?" Derek asks, grinning.

Stiles feels a wave of gratitude wash over him, and he nods quickly, squeezing Derek's hand in thanks.

The fluent French that spills out of Derek when the waiter returns is a little surprising and a complete turn on. It makes Stiles want to drop to his knees and suck Derek off until he's swearing in French. He's pretty sure Derek picks up on the aroused scent, because he starts rubbing his foot up against Stiles' ankle gently, and that does not help things at all.

"What did you order me?" Stiles asks, wondering if it would be too obvious if he dropped a fork under the table.

In this type of establishment, they'd probably get the fork for him and have several on hand to replace it. Probably not a good idea.

"You'll have to wait and see," Derek replies, looking a little smug, and his foot travelling higher.

Fuck, if the waiters put the napkins on their laps, Stiles is going to be so fucking mortified. He hurries to grab the napkin off the table and put it over his lap, and Derek - the ass - chuckles a little.

"What're you laughing at?" Stiles mutters.

"You; you're so _cute_ ," Derek admits, grinning at him wolfishly. "You'll be even cuter later, when I've peeled that suit off you and I'm buried inside of you," he adds, his voice low enough for only Stiles to hear.

"Derek!"

"What? You were trying to read French for me, Stiles; you can roll your Rs, even if your pronunciation's horrible, and you know what it does to me when you do things with your mouth."

"I was just talking."

"Yeah, that's a thing you do with your mouth. Cute as all fuck," Derek breathes, rubbing the back of his palm and smirking when Stiles goes red all over again.

Stiles hopes like hell that Derek's ordered them something small so they can get out of there as soon as damn possible.

...

Derek plonks down on the couch next to Stiles, tugging his boyfriend between his legs before moving to wrap one around Stiles' lap. Derek takes the spoon from Stiles and sneaks a mouthful of Fruit Loops.

Stiles laughs, a full body laugh and head thrown back as the ridiculously tiny animated kitten starts clawing at the large dog's back, making a nest for herself in his fur. Derek grins at his laugh, presses a warm kiss to his neck, and keeps eating Stiles' breakfast.

"Stop eating my Fruit Loops. Go get your own," Stiles mutters, taking the spoon back from him.

"Yours tastes better."

"You always say that," Stiles replies, eyes on the screen as the tiny kitten starts walking through the construction site as the dog frets down below.

"Hmm, true though," Derek murmurs, licking at a prominent bite mark on Stiles' shoulder from the night before.

"Oh, your favourite part. Look, look," Stiles says, grinning back at him.

Derek rests his head on Stiles' shoulder and watches the screen, chuckling when the kitten eats the dog's huge bowl of food, and the dog looks a little lovesick as he watches contently.

"We've got to pay your car registration this afternoon, don't forget," Derek reminds Stiles as he finishes off the last of the cereal.

"Uh-huh. Now shh, you know the rules: no adult talk before 9am."

"Sorry," Derek murmurs, pressing a kiss to Stiles' cheek before taking his bowl. "What's on next?" he asks, reluctantly untangling himself from the couch and Stiles' body to get another bowl of Fruit Loops.

"Darkwing Duck."

"Oh, awesome. Haven't seen that one in a while," Derek says, digging through the cereal box with a frown.

"I already got the toy from the box, stop looking for it," Stiles calls, waving his spoon towards the kitchen, eyes still on the screen.

Derek just hopes it wasn't the one he needs to finish his collection, and returns back to his spot behind Stiles.

Stiles dips his spoon into the bowl of Fruit Loops and Derek's pretty sure he looks just like that dog with his kitten, grinning as he holds Stiles close and they keep watching cartoons.

...

"Dude, are you two still arguing?" Scott asked, frowning when Stiles scowled at him.

"Yes. Derek just won't give in and admit that I'm right!" Stiles replied, shaking his head in disbelief. "I mean, who's the main pack researcher? Me. Who has the actual job in research? Me. Obviously, I'm totally right about this! Right?"

Scott looks a little sheepish, and actually takes a step back from Stiles, True Alpha or not. "I think ... Derek might be right on this one, Stiles."

"What?!"

"Well, you've got to look at it from a different perspective! They're smaller which means they'll be faster, so of course the wingspan matters when they're both in the air! And they would totally rip them apart with their claws!"

"That only depends on the type of dragon they're up against! Besides, it doesn't matter about the size, it's all about their fighting skill and manoeuvrability! Anyway, when they're both in the air, a griffin is basically a flying chicken with claws, and against a dragon? It'd be a _fried chicken with claws!_ I can't believe you're agreeing with Derek on this. That goes against everything in the bro-code, dude."

Scott whimpered and looks at the floor. "I just want it to be over; you two have been fighting about this for a week!"

"Four days is not a week, Scott, don't exaggerate. And I still say I'm right. Now go to work before I decide to argue with you for four days straight too," Stiles muttered, waving Scott over to his motorbike.

 _Griffin is basically a flying chicken with claws. Up against a dragon it's a fried chicken with claws_ , Stiles types out to Derek, sure that he's won the argument now.

 _Griffin could easily dodge a dragon's flame! Those things can be seen from miles away!_ Is Derek's response, and he narrows his eyes at the screen.

Stiles will win this argument one way or another, and he's not above playing dirty. (Or in this case, playing naked.)

...

They're still waiting in line for Comic Con when the age-old (and well-worn) argument starts. (Read: Stiles gets bored and picks a fight with Derek, even though he promised that this year would be different.)

"Star Wars is _ten times_ better than Star Trek," Stiles mutters.

"You can't even watch Episodes I to III without cringing and screaming at the TV!" Derek says, rolling his eyes.

"You can't even _look_ at the Star Trek: Voyager DVDs!"

Derek mutters something under his breath, and Stiles smirks, thinking he's won.

"You've got Jar-Jar Binks," Derek points out.

" _Fuck_... You've got Wesley Crusher."

"Hey, Wil Wheaton is awesome!" a voice calls out from the crowd.

" _Shut up_ , Greenberg!" Derek and Stiles both yell at him.

"Ewoks," Derek says, smirking.

"What the fuck's wrong with Ewoks?"

"They're fluffy _teddy bears_."

"That _kick ass_ ," Stiles retorts. "They're the cousins of Wookies!"

"Yeah, a big furry creature that only one person understands."

"You're a big furry creature that only one person understands," Stiles mocks, and _fuck_ that's lame, even for him.

"Not to mention the incest between Leia and Luke."

"Homo-erotic subtext with Kirk and Spock. In the series **and** the movies."

"And the convention panels," someone in the crowd adds with a snort of amusement.

"That's got nothing on Supernatural," someone else adds, chuckling.

"Yeah, Supernatural's got homo-erotic _and_ incest."

"You leave Wincest and Destiel out of this, or so help me, I'll sacrifice you to Lucifer himself."

"He wouldn't want me when he's got Sammy."

"You take that back!"

"Oh god, I think we've started a shipping war," Stiles mutters to Derek.

"If anyone starts rioting this time, let me handle the lightsaber. You almost poked my eye out last year."

"Oh, I'll let you handle my lightsaber all right."

"You dork."

"Says the guy dressed as Riker from TNG."

"You can talk, Obi Wan."

"Love it when you talk geeky to me," Stiles said, wiggling his eyebrows with a suggestive smirk.

Derek rolled his eyes and pulled Stiles in for a lengthy kiss, ignoring the war cry of 'Destiel!' coming from Greenberg further down the line.

 _Every damn year_.

...


End file.
